written and posted by members of Lancashire Dead Good Poets' Society

Saturday, 25 April 2020

Rock & Roll Up!

I must concede it does feel a bit strange to be writing about  fairgrounds  during a time of universal lockdown, almost a case of conjuring up a fond remembered past. I walk by the fairground at the end of Blackpool south pier on a daily basis (taking my allotted safe-distancing exercise) and the place looks forlorn. I'm sure there will be bright lights, loud music, hot dogs and whirling rides again at some point. Right now it's hard to imagine when - and so perforce this blog will be a reminiscence about all the fun of the fair as was.

I'm currently re-reading Mark Lewisohn's authoritative (I think it can be called that at 950 pages long) 'Tune In ', part one of 'All These Years ', his projected biographical trilogy about The Beatles. I'm re-reading part one because although part two was due this year, Mark (who used to be a near neighbour of mine when I lived in Berkhamsted) is still working on it. Why mention it here? you may be wondering. The answer is fairgrounds.

Back in the 1950s (we're talking 1956/57 here), when the fair came to town for the week, one of the major attraction for the youth of the day was the music that was played - all the latest nascent rock & roll or country songs from America. This was at a time when such music didn't get radio play in the UK and most families couldn't afford or didn't have a record player or radiogram. You went to the fair to hear the tunes (as well as to ride the rides and try and pick up girls). As the young McCartney and his friend Ian James reminisced: "Sefton Park when the fair came - standing beside the waltzers as they were spinning round - playing at full volume was a track by Charlie Grace called 'Fabulous '... The waltzer was always a favourite attraction because you'd take a girl on it and probably her skirt would blow up, and she'd be screaming and throw her arms around you for protection. And they always played great music." Hence my calling this blog Rock & Roll Up!


I used to enjoy fairs, but not for the blare of the music because by then (mid 1960s) everyone had caught up. My parents owned a record player and I had a radio and all the tunes at the touch of a dial courtesy of the pirate stations (RIP Ronan O'Rahilly who died this week.)

No, I liked the bright lights - fairs were always best after dark - the noise, the rides (dodgems, waltzer and whirligig in particular) and the smells of hot dogs, onions, generator fumes. Fairgrounds brought exotica and bright excitement into our lives a couple of times a year and I loved them for that. They might have been rogueish places but I never got the sense of menace that some have ascribed to them.

The last time I went to one was about ten years ago. It didn't seem as big, brash and exciting as the fairs of my youth and I'm ashamed to say I felt slightly queasy after just a couple of rides! Fairs are definitely a young person's domain.


The genesis of this week's poem goes back to a Mark Grist workshop in 2016. (That shows you how long some of my efforts spend taking appropriate form in the imaginarium.) I'm afraid it's a bit of a horror show, reflecting obliquely the fairground's traditional mix of glamour and menace.

Coconuts
From a tender age I was coconut shy.
The fair ground rendered me giddy,
on my mettle with wonder and fear;
its gaudy blaze and myriad blarings
assaulted, enticed, unsettled.

I'd stand rooted,
appalled and yet enthralled
before the most compelling of all -
not the monstrous whirling waltzer
or web-like spinning ferris wheel
but the simple construct
of the coconut stall:
wooden balls a tanner a time
or three for a shilling.
Roll up and have a fling.

I'd watch mesmerized
as big men hurled those balls
with all their might at ginger nuts
in cups. Was it anger? Mostly they missed.
I'll bang your heads together,
my father used to tell my brothers
when they were making too much row.
Sometimes they'd connect.
With a shocking crack and a split,
sticky coconut milk oozes red.
Mother's silent scream
as bloody-fingered innocence
is shattered. I'm dazed.
Pull me away.

And in the aftermath,
always those sickly yellow squares
upon the green where stalls had been
and shards of ginger skulls.

Thanks for reading, S ;-)

41 comments:

Gareth Boyd Haskins said...

Wow! I'll never look at coconut shies (?) in the same way again. πŸ‘

Mitch Carragher said...

A fascinating blog Steve. I loved the info about the young Beatles. As for your poem - brilliant. Keep the blogs coming. Stay healthy and stealthy ;)

CI66Y said...

As beautifully crafted as ever, Steve. Just reading it made me feel nostalgic and hungry (for hot dogs with loads of onions). I missed that Ronan O'Rahilly had died. I used to listen to Radio Caroline religiously. That's an interesting and somewhat disturbing poem, powerful for what is doesn't say as much as for what it does. Well done all round.

Debbie Laing said...

That's a most interesting blog. It got me wondering about all the fairs that spend all their time moving from one town to another. Are they all stuck in whatever municipal park or village green they happened to be on when lockdown was brought in? Unable to open for business but unable to move on? How strange and sad. Your poem is vaguely disturbing, which was the intent, I suppose.

Nigella D said...

A lovely nostalgic blog and a beautifully constructed poem.

Matt West said...

Whee & ouch pal! (LOL)

DW said...

I loved your β€˜Coconuts’ poem. Great use and development of the coconut idea. One of your best I thought!

Boz said...

Crackin' blog la! Sefton Park's my local - grade one listed these days :)

Max Page said...

Ha ha. You don't know what you've got till it's gone! I wasn't missing fairgrounds until reading your latest blog. Cruel of you (LOL). The latest poem is terrific for being edgy.

Deke Hughes said...

Very good Steve. (I see someone else has already made the joke about it being a cracking blog!) I loved the snippet about the Beatles (naturally) and I thought your poem was excellent.

Sue Sims said...

πŸ‘

Rod Downey said...

Ah funfairs. We stocked our family's garden pond with goldfish from fairgrounds when I was a teenager. 'Coconuts' is very good - all power to the imaginarium. πŸ‘

Carey Jones said...

That's a smashing blog and poem Steve. (See what I did there?) Coconuts took me by surprise. Hope you're staying well my friend.

Tom Shaw said...

Last time I went to a fairground was Coney Island 2010. Took the kids on a fall break. When this is all over be kinda fun to do it again. Did you ever go there when you were working over here?

Robert Harries said...

I'm told that the origins of the Coconut Shy may be local to my neck of the woods in Kingston, Surrey. There used to be a cocoa fibre factory at Middle Mill in the 1800s - in fact there's still a pub called the Cocoanut here in Mill Street. Legend has it that coconuts were supplied from the mill to be used as targets/prizes on the Aunt Sally stall at the annual Kingston Pleasure Fair in 1867 and the rest is history. I thought you might like that. I really enjoy your blogs and I thought this one deserved some response. I hope you're keeping well. Rob.

Binty said...

Ooh, I love this blog Steve. Your 'Coconuts' poem is terrific, worth the long gestation (LOL).

Jools said...

No May Day fairs this year. How sad. I enjoyed your atmospheric blog and cracking new poem. Happy Beltane! :)

Martin Brewster said...

I can relate to your comment about fairs being for the young. I took my nephew and neice to one last year and I was nearly sick after a turn on the waltzer - can't hack it anymore! That's a very clever poem. I love the premise and some of the acute observations. Well done. πŸ‘πŸ‘πŸ‘

Grant Trescothick said...

Thanks for another thoroughly enjoyable blog and a great new poem. That last quatrain is killer.

Emily Laws said...

Wonderful. Miss our poetry nights so much.

F O'Jay said...

I love the fairground reminiscences and the (shockingly) brilliant poem.

Ben Templeton said...

Super blogging. Stunning new poem. πŸ‘

Mac Southey said...

Thanks for sharing Steve. Fairs were always exciting events - adrenalin in a field. Now there's go-karting, bunjee jumping and any number of theme parks, but nothing will ever quite compare with the fair coming to town of my/our younger days. I thought your poem is immense - you should be pleased with that.

K0NR&D said...

Brilliant!

Kevin Sterling said...

That's an amazing poem and the direction it took was quite unexpected.

Anonymous said...

Wicked poetry :)

Dani Merakli said...

A great read and a cracking poem ;)

Ruth Maxwell said...

Isn't it a curious phenomenon how much you want to do something when you can't. I haven't been toa fairground in years but I'm longing for one now: to eat a hot-dog, win a trashy soft toy, ride the waltzer, enjoy bright lights and loud music. Your poem was most powerful and unexpected - nothing autobiographical, I trust?

Alex Lee said...

I just ticked interesting and poetic for you. What a great blog. I'm looking forward to reading more. πŸ‘

Ross Madden said...

I seem to be feasting on your blogs tonight (a bit in catch-up mode). This was fascinating about fairgrounds and Beatles and the poem is surely one of your best.

Brian Cassell said...

Thanks for that little blast of nostalgia. I remember so clearly the excitement of fairgrounds - the bright stalls, the brilliant music (as you say - a good source of sounds in earlier days), the black cables sneaking everywhere, the smell of fried onions mixed with generator fumes, fun and squeals. After that, your poem floored me with its sinister undertones - quite brilliant I thought.

Colin Hawkswell said...

Coconuts is a wonderful poem. Well done :)

Jen McDonagh said...

Excellent blogging Steve. Sorry I've only just got round to reading it. I love the poem and the illustrations too. Hope you're still in good spirits up there.

Anonymous said...

"...bloody-fingered innocence" - that's one hell of a line!

Henry Shacks said...

I enjoyed your fairground blog and the coconuts poem even more so. Excellent. I've added this site to my favourites.

Natalija Drozdova said...

Ah. Such a clever coconut poem. I love it.

Anonymous said...

Brilliant poetry.

Howie Schroeder said...

Another smashing blog and poem - top quality Steve. Thanks for the link.

Anonymous said...

Your Coconut poem is really powerful - that undercurrent of menace, the shock of lines like "sticky coconut milk oozes red". Very well done.

Rory Cruikshank said...

Coconuts - 3 years gestation? Worth the wait. πŸ‘πŸ‘πŸ‘

Vanessa Remington said...

That's a very good poem. I love the language, the casual observations, the power to shock. Excellent!